by CJ Archer
***
I couldn't sleep that night. Thoughts of Jack whirled through my head. I couldn't block them out, nor did I want to. I liked how he looked at me. I liked how he made me feel. Except when he zapped me, that is. It had taken the rest of the day before my body cooled enough to feel comfortable again. Indeed, I was still a little warm, so I rose to open the window. The air was cold but didn't alleviate the heat throbbing through me. Jack's touch had indeed been powerful, and the effects long-lasting.
Voices drifted up to me from below. In the moonlight, I could just make out two figures standing side by side. One wore a long overcoat and hat. The other did not. Both had the stance and size of men.
"He'll be in a lot of trouble if Langley finds out," said a voice I instantly recognized as Jack's. Why was he referring to his uncle by his surname?
"We don't know it's 'im." Good lord, it was Tommy, speaking in a slum accent similar to what I'd heard Jack use that one time in Langley's rooms. His tones had been cultured earlier as befitted a footman in a grand house, so why the slip now?
I leaned further out the window to hear more.
"Of course it's him," Jack said. "The maid said—"
"She 'as a name, Jack. Maud. You mighta risen up 'igh now, but you better not f'get where you came from. Wouldna want that pretty lady knowin' what you really is, would ya?"
Something flared in the darkness, and I realized with a start that it was Jack's fingers. There were no sparks, but they did glow.
"Jesus bloody Christ, Jack-o'-lantern!" Tommy backed away. "I don' mean no 'arm. I won' tell 'er nuffin'. Put yer 'ands away."
The glow went out. "Maud said the intruder she saw was a tall man with a big nose and a scar across one eye. Unless you know of another fitting that description, then I'd wager it was Patrick."
"But Patrick's in London with the others."
"It would seem he's made at least one trip into the country recently. I'll go to London and warn him to keep low."
"What? You not gonna let the Bobbies deal wiv 'im? My, my, seems you ain't f'got us after all."
"Of course I haven't forgotten you, you know that. You're my family. Always have been, always will be." Jack gave Tommy a slap on the back, and Tommy briefly clasped Jack's arm.
"You got anuvver family now," Tommy said. "An uncle and a cousin. Don' fink they'd like 'earin' you talk about the likes o' Patrick and me as closer to you than them."
Jack tipped his head back as if he were about to look up. I ducked inside and flattened myself against the wall. My heart thundered in my chest and I closed my eyes, held my breath.
"They're not my family," I heard Jack say, and I breathed out again. It would appear he hadn't seen me.
"Aye. No need to feel bad about what Patrick stole then, is it? Langley's just anuvver toff." The gravel crunched beneath their boots as the two men walked away.
I breathed deeply several times. I still couldn't believe what I'd just heard, yet I must. Jack not only knew the thief, he was protecting him.
They're not my family, he'd said. If that were the case, why was he living at Frakingham House at all?
To fleece Langley of his wealth by pretending to be his nephew? Or was there something more sinister going on?
CHAPTER 6